Drowning Alone
by Flame Tigress
Summary: "I know what I must do, but I am afraid to do it." -- Preparing to leave the Fellowship to go to Mordor alone, Frodo must overcome his most deeply-rooted fears.
1. Movieverse version

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Author's Note: This story is basically a lot of Frodo-angst in the first person, present tense, because Frodo-angst is fun and _so _easy. Thanks to my pal TALEWG for lending me the idea about Sam's NDE (Near Death, or in this case Drowning, Experience) being particularly traumatic for Frodo because his parents drowned when he was very young. It starts about the time when track 17 from the soundtrack – "The Breaking of the Fellowship," the most sad, touching, heart-wrenching, powerful piece of music I have ever heard – begins, and was inspired by the movie when Melanie and I saw it (the 4th time for me on Sunday, February 24) and she made the thought-provoking comment about Frodo's parents. So sue me, Tolkien traditionalists. I like the movie, and it is very inspirational. (Those eyes…wow. They're so _blue. _And they _hurt_ so much. I can never really imagine Frodo as looking like anyone other than Elijah Wood, even when I'm reading the books.) So this version of my story is written using quotes from the movie in the Italics, and the dialogue and action at the end is in the movie and not the book. But if you are a staunch traditionalist and you would rather, you can read the book-compatible version to be found in the next "chapter" and just ignore this first chapter. You don't have to read both; it sort of loses its impact the second time, as do most angsty stories. For those reading the movie version (below) who have the soundtrack CD, skipping to #17 might be in order.

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Drowning Alone

There are two things in the world of which I am most afraid and always have been, and one of them is inevitably before me. I have always been afraid of being alone. Completely alone, that is; living alone in Bag End after Bilbo left doesn't count, because it was comforting to know that I could always find familiar faces in the houses all along Bagshot Row, and Sam was just a few doors down. But I know that now I face the complete loneliness that has been my darkest terror for as long as I can remember.

If I had known earlier that this was what awaited me, I probably would never have stood up in the Council of Elrond and announced, "I will take the Ring." A sense of need and duty motivated me, but some fears are so paralyzing that they will overwhelm even those. I wonder if I was stupid to volunteer…I could press on despite weariness, heartache, and fear when I had the Fellowship beside me, but now it is more true than ever that I do not know the way.

I should go forward…it is just a matter of stepping into the canoe and rowing across the river, and then I am already on my way to Mordor and what I must do.

_I cannot do this alone._

You are a Ring-bearer, Frodo. To bear a ring of power is to be alone.

Then I know what I must do…it's just – I'm afraid to do it.

This task has been appointed to you, and if you don't find a way, no one will.

I have to find a way. I know what I must do, but I am frozen and afraid. I cannot take a step forward; my feet are leaden, as is my heart. The terrible emptiness inside me fills my chest, tears at my throat, and stings my eyes from within.

_I know why you seek solitude: you suffer. I see it day by day._

The voluntary solitude which I have sought in an effort to prepare myself for what I knew must come is so different from the loneliness forced upon me by this duty that I did not want. I do suffer, and cannot keep from showing it. I have been wounded, and shall never really heal; I have been weighted down with a burden that, day by day, becomes heavier until a day shall come when I will fall under its weight and it will be impossible to rise. I have lost my closest confidant, advisor, guide, guardian, and friend in fulfilling a task that I should not, should not have undertaken.

But I know that it was not my choice to make.

_There are other forces at work in the world besides the will of evil. Bilbo was _meant _to find the Ring, in which case you were also _meant _to have it. And that is an encouraging thought._

It should be an encouraging thought. But I wish I could have chosen home, safety, the warmth and security of familiar people and surroundings. I wish that the terrible darkness of this weight that I carry didn't force me to leave the only solace I have, the only strength that bears me up.

_I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened._

So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.

It is remembering this that gives my hand the strength to close around the Ring that seems to whisper to me all my fears and apprehensions when I gaze at it lying gleaming in my palm. That is what the motion of closing my hand around the Ring feels like, somehow – accepting the pain and fear for which Fate has chosen me and pressing on though I desperately fear being alone. I put it in my pocket, taking it in stride, defying it to hold me back from the task that has been appointed for me. My personal phobias don't matter in the face of the enormity of the consequences of succumbing to doubt, and shirking the duty to which the fates of all races are bound. I cannot be a simple, flesh-and-blood hobbit when I am the agent and vessel of fate.

_Even the smallest person can change the course of the future._

My face set, like my heart, with the firm determination that fills all my being with a strength I never knew I had, I push the boat into the river to cross to the side where lies my task, my destiny, my glory, and my doom. My soul is hardened around the knot of hopelessness and pain settled at its center that will never be untied, because I am a Ring-bearer and to bear a Ring of Power is to be alone.

But I am not alone, it seems, for I suddenly hear someone crashing through the trees on the western shore of the river, yelling, "Mr. Frodo!"

"No, Sam," I whisper, my voice hoarse through lonely, despairing tears. I cannot look back and break my resolve to face this worst of fears and do what must be done – alone, because none but I can do it. I cannot look back, because the temptation to go back and escape the loneliness would be too great.

But I hear him splashing into the river, trying to follow me. "I am going to Mordor. Alone," I say sternly – though my voice sounds…watery – trying to dissuade my dearest and most loyal friend from helping or comforting me, from going with me to where it surely must be my fate to go and perish alone.

"Of course you are!" Sam exclaims from where he is wading into the shallows. "And I'm coming with you!"

The humorous irony of this statement is not entirely lost on me – until I turn around to see Sam splashing farther into the water. Cold fear clutches at my heart as the second of my two greatest fears surfaces. "Go back, Sam!" I cry desperately. "You can't swim!"

He flounders, paddling wildly, for a moment before his head goes under, and terror paralyzes me as memory washes over me –

_The sun on the river. A boat far out in the current. Then I cannot see why it is sinking – why my mother is screaming and flailing and my father is nowhere to be seen. I can do nothing but cry, "Mother!" and shout for help. Helplessness and terror freeze me; I sob and run along the bank, desperately crying and screaming, and Why does no one come to help them? and I'm too afraid to go into the water, but I can't leave the shore – no one is anywhere near, no one can hear my cries – "Frodo!" my mother screams, but she can't reach me, she can't swim, and she disappears, leaving me all alone –_

I shake off my momentary, terrified paralysis – I can't let it happen again. Not to Sam. Paddling with speed and strength born of frightening necessity, I maneuver the boat to where I saw him disappear beneath the waves. I reach urgently into the water, finding and grasping Sam's limp hand, terribly afraid that I am too late…until his grip strengthens on my wrist, a powerful, rough, familiar gardener's hand. As I pull his sopping form out of the river and he clambers into the canoe, I feel as though it is he who has rescued me from drowning, from my greatest fear: drowning alone, helplessly sinking, enveloped in my loneliness.

Sam is an almost laughable sight, drenched and spraying droplets of water from his mouth and nose, but somehow I can do nothing but sob my fear, my pain and loneliness, my relief. Sam is crying too as he splutters with heart-rending courage and determination, "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. A promise. 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee.' And I don't mean to." A sob shakes him and breaks his voice. "I don't mean to."

"Oh, Sam," is all I can say through my thankful tears, and I throw my arms around him, my supporting rock of stolid steadfastness. The water that weighs down his cloak and clothing is soaking through mine and chilling my skin until I can feel the comforting warmth of Sam radiating through the cold. He _is_ courage and steadfastness in its purest essence, the line thrown to me that saves me from drowning, the warm friendship and love that saves me from being alone. For we will go together.

Rowing with Sam to the far shore, I am impossibly glad he is with me; I desperately do not want to be all alone.

Galadriel, for all her wisdom and experience, for all that she is also a ring-bearer, was wrong about one thing: one can bear a Ring of Power without being alone. A true friend will keep me from drowning alone.

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Author's Note (you can't shut me up)**:** If you enjoyed this story, read also "Remember Me" and "'Samwise Gamgee and the Ring,'" also by Flame Tigress, who is a shameless advertiser and needs reviews. The aforementioned stories also involve a lot of sappy hobbit angst for readers who are suckers for such. Heck, read anything I've written – _Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings,_ whatever – if you enjoyed this story. I will die without reviews…


	2. Bookcompatible version

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Author's Note: Whoops, forgot a disclaimer on the first version. Here it is: not my characters or dialogue, J.R.R. Tolkien's; not my staging, Peter Jackson's; not my script on the movie version, PJ, Fran Walsh, and Philippa Boyens's; not my angsty facial expressions, Elijah Wood's.

So you have chosen to read the book version. It's not the original, so it might not be as good as my movie-based fic, but I'm just out to prove that even though I saw the movie first, I _am_ faithful to the books. So there.

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Drowning Alone

There are two things in the world of which I am most afraid and always have been, and one of them is inevitably before me. I have always been afraid of being alone. Completely alone, that is; living alone in Bag End after Bilbo left doesn't count, because it was comforting to know that I could always find familiar faces in the houses all along Bagshot Row, and Sam was just a few doors down. But I know that now I face the complete loneliness that has been my darkest terror for as long as I can remember.

If I had known earlier that this was what awaited me, I probably would never have stood up in the Council of Elrond and announced, "I will take the Ring." A sense of need and duty motivated me, but some fears are so paralyzing that they will overwhelm even those. I wonder if I was stupid to volunteer…I could press on despite weariness, heartache, and fear when I had the Fellowship beside me, but now it is more true than ever that I do not know the way.

I should go forward…it is just a matter of stepping into the canoe, onto which I have already loaded my things, and rowing across the river, and then I am already on my way to Mordor and what I must do.

_I know what I should do, but I am afraid to do it: afraid…_

I think this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will.

I have to find a way. I know what I must do, but I am frozen and afraid. I cannot take a step forward; my feet are leaden, as is my heart. The terrible emptiness inside me fills my chest, tears at my throat, and stings my eyes from within.

_Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?_

The solitude which I have sought in an effort to prepare myself for what I knew must come is so different from the loneliness forced upon me by this duty that I did not want. I suffer, and cannot keep from showing it. I have been wounded, and shall never really heal; I have been weighted down with a burden that, day by day, becomes heavier until a day shall come when I will fall under its weight and it will be impossible to rise. I have lost my closest confidant, advisor, guide, guardian, and friend in fulfilling a task that I should not, should not have undertaken.

But I know that it was not my choice to make.

_…there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was _meant _to find the Ring, and _not _by its maker. In which case you were also _meant_ to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought._

It should be an encouraging thought. But _it is not. _I wish I could have chosen home, safety, the warmth and security of familiar people and surroundings. I wish that the terrible darkness of this weight that I carry didn't force me to leave the only solace I have, the only strength that bears me up.

_I wish Bilbo had not kept the Ring. I wish he had never found it and that I had not got it!…I wish I had never seen the Ring!…I wish it need not have happened in my time._

So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.

It is remembering this that gives my hand the strength to close around the Ring that seems to whisper to me all my fears and apprehensions when I gaze at it lying gleaming in my palm. That is what the motion of closing my hand around the Ring feels like, somehow – accepting the pain and fear for which Fate has chosen me and pressing on though I desperately fear being alone. I put it in my pocket, taking it in stride, defying it to hold me back from the task that has been appointed for me. My personal phobias don't matter in the face of the enormity of the consequences of succumbing to doubt, and shirking the duty to which the fates of all races are bound. I cannot be a simple, flesh-and-blood hobbit when I am the agent and vessel of fate.

__

My face set, like my heart, with the firm determination that fills all my being with a strength I never knew I had, I push the boat into the river to cross to the side where lies my part, my destiny, my glory, and my doom. My soul is hardened around the knot of hopelessness and pain settled at its center that will never be untied, because I am a Ring-bearer and to bear a Ring of Power is to be alone.

But I am not alone, it seems, for I suddenly hear someone crashing through the trees on the western shore of the river, yelling, "Coming, Mr. Frodo! Coming!"

I quickly put on the Ring, again, wishing not to be seen by Sam, though it is dangerous to wear it; I cannot look back and break my resolve to face this worst of fears and do what must be done – alone, because none but I can do it. I cannot look back, because the temptation to go back and escape the loneliness would be too great.

But I hear him splashing into the river, trying to follow me, though surely he can see nothing but an empty boat. He can't swim. Cold fear clutches at my heart as the second of my two greatest fears surfaces.

He flounders, paddling wildly, for a moment before his head goes under, and terror paralyzes me as memory washes over me –

_The sun on the river. A boat far out in the current. Then I cannot see why it is sinking – why my mother is screaming and flailing and my father is nowhere to be seen. I can do nothing but cry, "Mother!" and shout for help. Helplessness and terror freeze me; I sob and run along the bank, desperately crying and screaming, and Why does no one come to help them? and I'm too afraid to go into the water, but I can't leave the shore – no one is anywhere near, no one can hear my cries – "Frodo!" my mother screams, but she can't reach me, she can't swim, and she disappears, leaving me all alone –_

I shake off my momentary, terrified paralysis – I can't let it happen again. Not to Sam. Paddling with speed and strength born of frightening necessity, I maneuver the boat to where I saw him disappear beneath the waves. I reach urgently into the water, finding and grasping Sam's hair, terribly afraid that I am too late…until he comes up out of the water, his brown eyes fearful but alert. "Up you come, Sam my lad!" I say, controlling the horror of the moment. "Now take my hand!"

"Save me, Mr. Frodo!" Sam gasps. "I'm drownded. I can't see your hand."

"Here it is." His familiar, rough, brown gardener's hand clasps my own hand and strengthens its grip on my wrist. "Don't pinch, lad!" I exclaim, struggling to remain calm and keep my voice light; "I won't let you go." My mother and father I had to let go; Sam I will not. "Tread water and don't flounder, or you'll upset the boat. There now, get hold of the side, and let me use the paddle!"

He scrambles, sopping wet, onto the shore. Sam is an almost laughable sight, drenched and spraying droplets of water from his mouth and nose. I gladly take off the Ring, and say without conviction, "Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam!"

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, that's hard!" Sam replies, shivering with the cold of the water that weighs down his clothing. "That's hard, trying to go without me and all. If I hadn't a guessed right, where would you be now?"

Drowning in my loneliness, sick with heartache and afraid. "Safely on my way," I say, unconvincing even to myself.

"Safely! All alone and without me to help you?" He has voiced exactly what doubts were in my heart. What I must do or no, there would be no safety alone. "I couldn't a borne it, it'd have been the death of me."

"It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam, and I could not have borne that." That is why I must go alone. Only I have stood forward to die for this Quest, and no other needs to. The beginnings of tears begin to sting again in my eyes, and my throat becomes blocked.

"Not as certain as being left behind."

"But I am going to Mordor."

"I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course you are. And I'm coming with you."

"Now, Sam," I say, trying to sound stern but coming out somewhat thick and watery, "don't hinder me! The others will be coming back at any minute. If they catch me here, I shall have to argue and explain, and I shall never have the heart or the chance to get off." For I had screwed up my courage, as Sam would put it, and once the moment of truth was over, I would never be decisive and determined enough to be willing to go alone again. "But I must go at once. It is the only way."

"Of course it is," Sam agrees. "But not alone." Blessed, blessed relief floods its radiance through me. "I'm coming too, or neither of us isn't going. I'll knock holes in all the boats first."

I feel oddly like my heart is overflowing and going to burst with its gratitude. _But not alone. _Dear Sam. I can laugh with my sudden warmth and gladness. _It's the only way…but not alone. _"Leave one! We'll need it. But you can't come like this without your gear or food or anything."

"Just hold on a moment, and I'll get my stuff!" Sam cries eagerly. "It's all ready. I thought we should be off today." He fetches his pack from where I left all the others' when I had been so foolishly determined to defy my fears and go on my own; a spare blanket and extra packages of food also he grabs, and runs back to the canoe.

"So all my plan is spoilt!" I complain, though my heart is not wholly in it; in fact, I do not mean it at all. "It is no good trying to escape you. But I'm glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad. Come along! It is plain that we were meant to go together. We will go, and may the others find a safe road! Strider will look after them." I pause, then add the thought that has grieved me since I first knew I must leave the Fellowship: "I don't suppose we shall see them again."

"Yet we may, Mr. Frodo," Sam replies simply, always hopeful and optimistic. "We may."

I am glad you are with me, Sam. I cannot say how glad. I feel as though it is he who has rescued me from drowning, from my greatest fear: drowning alone, helplessly sinking, enveloped in my loneliness. He _is_ courage and steadfastness in its purest essence, the line thrown to me that saves me from the bottomless depths of despair that threaten me, the warm friendship and love that saves me from being alone. For we will go together; I was meant to carry this burden, perhaps, but not in solitary suffering. _But not alone._

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Author's Note (you can't shut me up)**:** If you enjoyed this story, read also "Remember Me" and "'Samwise Gamgee and the Ring,'" also by Flame Tigress, who is a shameless advertiser and needs reviews. The aforementioned stories also involve a lot of sappy hobbit angst for readers who are suckers for such. Heck, read anything I've written – _Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings,_ whatever – if you enjoyed this story. I will die without reviews…


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